


The Widow and the Hawk

by bethejerktomybitch



Series: Marvel Soulmate AUs [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Pre-Avengers (2012), Soulmate-Identifying Marks, What Happened in Budapest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-09 00:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7779988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethejerktomybitch/pseuds/bethejerktomybitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You are not with the Red Room.” </p>
<p>It’s not a question, but he still attempts to answer, until realization hits him and he stares at her incredulously. “You… what?”, he asks weakly. “My god.” </p>
<p>She can’t stop the smirk from dancing across her lips. “You can call me Natasha.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Widow and the Hawk

**Author's Note:**

> Clintasha has always been one of my favorite pairings, so I really wanted to write a piece about them. I'm not quite satisfied with how this turned out, but I hope you'll still like it.

There is no way in hell this could go wrong.

Or at least that is what she tells herself. And she does a pretty good job at believing it, too. That is until, well, everything goes wrong. 

Natasha isn’t sure what exactly caused the whole plan to go sideways. Maybe she wasn’t thorough enough covering her tracks. Maybe she’s worth more to the Red Room than she thought. Maybe her plan was a lousy-ass plan to begin with. 

All she knows is that when she regains consciousness, she is strapped to a chair with a throbbing pain in her temple. 

Despite her somewhat compromising situation, Natasha can’t help but feel a tiny bit of respect for whoever managed to take her out. She’s the Black Widow, after all, and if the Red Room is known for anything, it’s for not training amateurs. 

Natasha does a quick check of her surroundings. She’s still in the crappy motel room a few miles from Budapest, and nothing seems changed, except for the fact that she’s rendered unable to move. 

She twists her head a little and manages to take a look at the restraints holding her in place. They look like ordinary handcuffs, and Natasha scoffs. Whoever’s tied her up, it was no one connected to the Red Room, or the KGB, or even Hydra. They would’ve known that she was able to slip out of handcuffs in a matter of seconds by the age of six. 

But before she can even start twisting free of her restraints, she hears footsteps and a man steps into the doorway she’s facing. 

He’s not much taller than her, but rather muscular, with sandy brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. There’s a bow strapped to his back, and Natasha can tell with one look that he has at least four or five other weapons hidden away on his body.

Immediately, Natasha’s brain starts to create multiple plans on how to overpower him, on how to strap him of his bow and arrows and guns and knives, while she’s still tugging at the handcuffs around her waists – maybe not normal cuffs after all, because they just won’t give in – but what none of these plans account for is for the man to give her a wide smirk.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty.”, he says, and Natasha freezes, stops breathing altogether. 

She feels a burning sensation between her rips, where her words used to be, before the doctors of the Red Room removed them in a procedure that left her in unspeakable pain for weeks. Natasha has never read those words since then, much less heard, but she’s never forgotten them either, and she’s one hundred percent sure that this man has just said her words. 

His grin grows wider, oblivious to the turmoil inside of her head – she’s always been good at hiding her emotions – and he asks: “What’s up, cat got your tongue?” 

Natasha takes a deep breath, and then, finally, she manages to say something.

“You are not with the Red Room.” 

It’s not a question, but he still attempts to answer, until realization hits him and he stares at her incredulously. “You… what?”, he asks weakly. “My god.” 

She can’t stop the smirk from dancing across her lips. “You can call me Natasha.” 

He actually laughs at this, full out laughs, in spite of the baffled state he’s obviously still in, and Natasha can’t keep herself from thinking that his laugh is beautiful.

“Clint.”, he says, when he’s recovered from his almost hysterical fit of laughter, and Natasha gives a small smile. 

“Nice to meet you, Clint. You mind untying me now?” 

***

Clint takes her to a small flat in the middle of Budapest in an old crappy Chevrolet. He tells her that he’s with SHIELD – one of the good guys, he calls it, but Natasha has seen enough to not believe in good or bad anymore – and that he’s been sent to recruit her, and, if not possible, neutralize her. 

Natasha knows very well what neutralize means, but Clint swears up and down that he wouldn’t have killed her, not matter what, and although she jokes that he wouldn’t have been able to even if he wanted, a part of her believes him without question. 

An awkward silence feels the room when they both sit down in the scarcely furnished apartment. She can feel Clint’s gaze on her, but she doesn’t look at him, not until he starts speaking again, his voice slightly unsure and wavering. 

“So… where are your words?” 

Natasha has never missed her words, not really, but as she answers him now, she suddenly feels the loss, like the Red Room took something from her she can’t ever get back.

“I don’t have any.” 

Clint’s face twitches and there’s something in his eyes that could be confusion or pain. “What?”

The explanation leaves her mouth a little too fast and she knows that, but somehow she can’t bear that look in his eyes. Somehow she wants him to understand, wants to convince him that even though she doesn’t bear his words, not anymore, she still belongs to him. 

“They removed them, when I was still a girl. But I… I remember them. They were on my rips.” 

Without really knowing what she’s doing, or why she’s doing it, she slowly pulls up her shirt so that Clint can see the skin where black words used to mark her skin in a messy handwriting. Now, there’s nothing but a barely visible scar. 

He doesn’t reach out. He doesn’t touch her. Instead, he just turns and pulls down the collar of his shirt, granting her a look at the words that mark his shoulder in an all too familiar handwriting. 

A small smile flashes across her face, but it vanishes as soon as Clint turns again and speaks. 

“You know, I… I still have a mission.” 

Every muscle in Natasha’s body tenses and she looks at him blankly. “You do.” 

Clint seems slightly uncomfortable as he adds: “I told you before, I won’t neutralize you. But I can still try to recruit you.” There is a breath, a pause, and then: “We don’t have to be on different sides.” 

She takes a deep breath, and then she speaks, barely audible. “We aren’t.” 

The look on his face is definitely confused now, and for a moment, he just stares at her uncomprehendingly. “You work with the Red Room, don’t you?”, he finally asks. 

Natasha shakes her head. “No.”, she whispers. “Not anymore. I ran away. This is why I was in that motel room. I was hiding from the Red Room. I didn’t… I just didn’t want to do all this anymore. I didn’t want to be a killer.” 

Clint’s reaction is not what she expected. He smiles, a wide, genuine smile. 

“Good.”, he says. “Because, as stunning as you are, I’d prefer a soulmate who isn’t a stone-cold killer.” 

***

“Ready, little red?” 

Natasha rolls her eyes so far that they almost vanish into the back of her head, and she is genuinely tempted to jeopardize the whole mission just to punch Clint in the face. 

“I told you before, arrow-man, don’t call me that.”, she snaps through the intercom. 

She can hear his oh so familiar smirk in his voice as he answers: “Aw, come one, sleeping beauty, you know you love it.” 

“I hate it.”, she insists, clenching the guns in her hands tighter. 

He full out laughs at this, despite being in a sniper position on the opposite roof at the moment. “But you love me.”, he shoots back. 

Natasha doesn’t say anything, but that’s enough of an answer to him. His voice becomes soft, suggestive, and he says: “I’m sorry, little spider. I’ll make it up to you later. I promise.” 

Again, Natasha rolls her eyes. “Just shut up, Hotshot.”, she murmurs. 

Before Clint has the chance to give an answer, a different voice sounds from the intercom. 

“Excuse me, Agent Romanov, Agent Barton, I don’t mean to interrupt, but the target has just entered the building. We should get started.” 

If Natasha hadn’t been trained at suppressing he emotions, she probably would’ve blushed, but instead, she just says: “Copy that. Let’s go.” 

She steps around the corner and starts shooting the armed Hydra agents – agents she’d once worked with – and she can’t help but feel a little anticipation as to how exactly Clint is planning on making it up to her. 

***

Later, after the mission is over and the mission report is taken care of, Natasha is lying next to Clint in some hotel room SHIELD’s paying for. He’s definitely made it up to her – he’s very good at that – and now he’s lazily playing with her long, red curls. 

“You know”, she says out of nowhere, “I glad I met you when I was running from the Red Room. I don’t now where I would be today if I hadn’t.” 

He grins. “Well, definitely not here with me. So you most certainly would’ve missed something.” 

She punches him against the arm and tells him that he’s a jerk, but her face and the look in her eyes tell otherwise as she leans down and shuts him up in the most effective way.

“I love you.”, she whispers later that night, when Clint should probably already be sleeping, but she knows he’s heard her.

He always does.


End file.
